


In the Name of Your Feathers

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, a little bit of zerrie i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Are we in love?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry leans in, pressing his lips softly on Zayn’s eyebrow, “No. Why would you crown yourself with such a heavy duty?”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Name of Your Feathers

 

 

 

_“Friendship is love without his wings.”_  
 _― George Gordon Byron_

 

 

 

Zayn never mentions, but he is actually a huge victim of acrophobia. Before his life with One Direction, this little weakness was never a big deal to him. But after they announced their first tour date, he knew it was coming to him, like a thunderstorm crawling on the field.

He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like to feel weak. And he doesn’t like to show out the side which he has the frailty that he’s really afraid of, especially when it is something so tiny and unbelievable. He doesn’t want people to know. He doesn’t need to get another label onto himself.

Success was what he worked hard on for, and fame was also predictable. What he didn’t see it coming was how people were going to judge him by every single step he made. Zayn wants to be seen. But in some ways, he doesn’t want to be seen at all. However, people seem to focus on the wrong point on him. Despite his efforts, they still choose to be blind on things that are obviously presented. It is horrible and terrifying, as if he is a mute being put into the spotlight. People fix their eyes on him, but no one can hear him calling for help.

Sometimes Zayn feels like he is walking in the sky. Those clouds around him are relaxing and comfortable. But when he looks down at the ground, he suddenly realises how frightening the height is along with thousands of people looking up at him. Their faces are emotionless and cold, like they are all waiting for him to fall down, heavily, hopelessly.

The first one to catch him up in the air was Perrie. She is innocent and pure, maybe sort of naive. She has a lot of childlike thoughts, which is hard for Zayn to handle. But he likes her positivity, even though he is also a bit jealous of the happy world in her eyes that Zayn can never see. And it scares him. He’s afraid that one day the clueless happiness will take her away; one day she won’t put her lipstick on his cheek again; one day she will let got his arms, and leave him lost in the troposphere again.

He tries to get rid of thoughts like that. Although whenever he does, he always sees the distance between Perrie and him get wider and wider.

The plane is rising. He closes his eyes and grabs the armrest out of subconscious. What he touches is not the fibres, but real skin with temperature. “Sorry.” Zayn opens one of his eyes. A pink scratch shows up on Harry’s pale back of hand.

Zayn is waiting for Harry to say something, but there is only silence. Seconds later when he hides himself into darkness again, a warm palm covers his coldness, softly and gently.

“You’re alright, Zayn.” Harry’s whisper is lower than breath, but somehow Zayn can hear him over the noise of engine. “We’re alright.”

It’s hard to explain how it happens. But at that night when they arrive at the hotel, he presses his lips onto Harry’s, inhaling in all the airs in Harry’s lungs. He wants to feel everything of Harry, taste every square inch of him. As he goes deep into Harry’s body, he can feel Harry’s fingertips flips over his spine like a guitar riff. Harry’s groans and gasps mix into a rhythm that Zayn will never forget. Zayn wants write a song for him, about the warmth burning between their chests when they cuddle together, about the paradise he finds in Harry’s raspy voice.

The day when Zayn tells Harry about his engagement of Perrie, the curly kid laughs in respond.

“I still don’t know why you’re attached to her.” He travels his hands down to Zayn’s jeans, “Why is she so different? What did you spot on her?”

Zayn pauses for a second, “I see…I see sparkle.” He brushes Harry’s fringe back, “At least I suppose I do. She is a bright as the sun, hot and shining. I’m probably just the moon, covered in the protection of dark.”

“You’re not the moon.” Harry narrows the space between them. Zayn can even count his eyelashes. “You’re able to illuminate the world by yourself, Zayn. You don’t need the sun.”

“I do.” After having Harry against the wall twice, Zayn murmurs into Harry’s ears. “I do need the sun. I need you.”

Harry rests his head at Zayn’s neck, leaving a simple kiss on the anxious collarbone. “Nah, you don’t.”

They keep on sharing a lot of nights in the same way. Zayn can’t find a certain reason for this, even though they both enjoy the guilty pleasure when Zayn sticks his finger in with the fancy marriage ring. Zayn loves Perrie. He doesn’t believe there is another girl in the world can replace Perrie in his heart. And he loves Harry too. Despite the fact that he doesn’t even know what their relationship is called. There is something about Harry that makes him so charming, so unbreakable.

“Bullshit, I’m delicate.” When he talks about this to Harry, the little gem bursts out into laughter. Harry pulls himself closer, taking out a deep breath. “You can wreck me easily, you know that.”

Zayn giggles, putting his arms around Harry’s shoulder, “But you haven’t broken yet.”

“Well, yeah.” Harry smiles, “Not yet.”

Harry is special. Zayn hates to use such a shallow word on him, but that is the best explanation to his dependence on Harry. It is never an easy task to understand how Harry’s brain works. Sometimes Zayn will get text messages from Harry in the middle of night with mystery sentence and Zayn can’t even tell if Harry is drunk or not. But it is adorable. He likes Harry’s odd actions; he likes the way Harry being himself; he likes the blur edge between Harry’s youth and maturity; he likes Harry, he likes Harry a lot.

Safety is what Harry offers Zayn the most. He is the youngest one of all; even so Zayn can still find the symbol of home on Harry. One of the secrets Zayn never shares is that he has nightmare quite often. He usually wakes up in the middle of night on the tour bus, sweating down and choking on the thin air. He never screams or even makes a tiny sound, but Harry can always senses something wrong and climbs down the bunk to open his curtain.

“It’s alright.” Harry covers Zayn’s eyes with his steady hand, whiffing into his ear like the sunshine in Sunday afternoon. “Don’t worry. I’m here. It won’t bother you again.”

He can feel Harry’s tender lips touch his forehead, like a seal of the promise. Harry never leaves before Zayn falls asleep again. In some mornings Zayn can still wake up with Harry’s heat by the side of his bed.

In all the treasures of Harry, Zayn adores Harry’s eyes especially. They are the green light from the harbour, and Zayn is Gatsby, who gazes at the flash every night, stretching out his hand as if he can catch it. He waits. He waits for one day it would be a place belonging to him forever. And he would no longer be afraid.

He always wonders how Harry views him as because Harry never lets him make a definition of the thing that is developing between them. Tentatively, he would name it as friendship.

“Why does everything need a reason?” asks Harry. He doesn’t like it when Zayn attempts to make it clear. “Reasons are boring, don’t you think so? And they are annoying too.”

“So, you think it would be better to leave the answer blowing in the wind?”

“Yes, my friend.” Harry hums absent-mindedly, “How many times must one man ask before realising there’s no answer?”

“Dylan will appreciate your new version of lyrics.”

“No way. He will punch me in the face.”

The moments with Harry are always great. Spending times with him can always help Zayn forget the bad things, forget his pains, and even forget that he is an engaged man who has a lovely fiancée. Harry still likes to make fun of him and Perrie’s future marriage, but it is not out of jealousy.

People can tell Zayn’s excitement toward the wedding, but Harry is the only one who can see his panic. In spite of his feeling to Harry, Zayn still doesn’t want to lose Perrie. He wants to spend the rest of his life with this girl. Zayn needs her to make sure that he can still find love, he can be loved, and also have the ability to love. Even if there is still an invisible gap between them, he believes that he can still make the wall crumble one day. One day. He can see it coming; close enough to reach his hands.

But just before they are about to touch, it collapses.

Perrie cries. That’s the clearest scene in his mind. She keeps on saying sorry in her whimpers. She tells him that she realises they are too young for making this decision. She tells him that something goes wrong even if it is not his fault. She tells him how much she appreciates the memories he has given her. She tells him she did love him. She returns the ring with an intermittent apology.

He is falling. He is falling down from the million feet, same as the scene that constantly happens in his dream every night. Everyone is looking at him, but no one ever tries to help. He is hitting on the ground, deadly hurt, as broken as a useless vase.

Zayn can’t remember what else she says. But he remembers running wild in the sudden shower at the night. He presses on Harry’s doorbell like it is the last hope of his life. Harry looks as heartbroken as him. He embraces Zayn into his arms, yelling over Zayn’s desperate exclaiming.

“It’s alright, Zayn. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

His tears pour down and wet Harry’s shirt. Harry holds Zayn’s chin, leaving hickies on him again and again. “It’s ok. Look at me, Zayn. You have me. You still have me.”

Zayn pushes Harry onto the wall a bit violently, but Harry doesn’t complain, just like the time when Zayn left the scar on his hand. Harry’s clothe is all damp, mixing with the rain and teardrops on Zayn’s body.

“Feel me, Zayn.” Harry wheezes as Zayn travels down his waist, “I’m right here. Feel it. _Feel it._ You have nothing to worry about.”

Their bodies squeeze together. It feels like they almost ink their tattoos onto each other’s skin. They have had sex a lot of time, but nothing tastes like tonight. At least Zayn knows he doesn’t need to care about anything else. He has left the whole world behind. This moment is for themselves only. In this very point of time, he has Harry. To prove he’s still exists. To prove he’s still breathing.

His lips are freezing, and Harry’s temperature is boiling the blood under his frosty skin. It hurts as if thousands of roses just bloom out of his bones. Zayn nearly cries out again. But Harry calms him down again with his mild hands. The spring in Zayn’s heart comes to life again, streaming peacefully in his veins. As he goes between Harry’s legs, Harry’s rhythm is still the same. And he feels it too. That’s the thing worth him to memorize with his soul.

“See, it’s fine.” Harry almost loses his voice, “Forget everything. Forget them all. They don’t deserve to occupy your mind.”

Zayn laughs bitterly. He lies down beside Harry, still struggling to control his tears. He locks Harry’s fingers with his, asking the question that he has always wanted to find out the answer.

"Are we in love?"

Harry leans in, pressing his lips softly on Zayn’s eyebrow, “No. Why would you crown yourself with such a heavy duty?”

“I don’t know. Pain makes me feel alive.”

“Oh please. You don’t need to suffer more.” Harry kisses down his neck, and stops on Zayn’s red lipstick tattoo surrounded with two wings. They approximately look like flying along with Zayn’s harsh heartbeats.

He wants to walk in the sky with Harry again.

“One day.” He gasps, pressing his lips on Harry’s ear with a dry voice, “One day, I will find us a pair of wings. We can fly anywhere without a limit…together, forever.”

But Harry replies with a foggy smile. He shakes his head slowly, as gently as the breeze flipping over the river in the quiet summer day.

“No.” He breathes, “Stay on the horizon with me.”

Fin.


End file.
